For he saw me
by joygoddess
Summary: the final thoughts of one Harry James Potter on his life and love


As I stand here once again on the top of the tower, my thought cannot help but wander. Far away from the joke that some call a life. As for myself, well, I am just biding my time until it is over and I can rejoin my parents and all those who died before me. When I was younger, I dreamt of a hidden life, where I would be happy and people would care for me, but I now know the truth. The truth is that there was a different and new life waiting for me, but it most certainly was not a better one.

A life where I was famous for something I could not even remember, where people knew who I was before I did and where I was nothing more than a weapon, a tool for those who believed themselves more powerful than me. Here I am the Boy-Who-Lived and nothing else. People have the tendency to see only what they want. They wanted to see a young hero, a saviour, a perfect man-child who could easily live up to the expectations they have of me.

The truth is, however, that I am far from perfect, but I hide it well. I know what is expected of me and I will do my duty and then I shall die. I have no desire to live beyond the final battle. For people will never see me, they will only ever see the so-called saviour of the wizarding world. But what of your friends, they would say, how can you leave them. Well, no matter how hard they try, they could never understand what I am going through. They have each other, their families and when I am done with Voldemort, the whole world. While I am left with nothing, a weapon that has lost its purpose and people have a tendency to turn against their one-time heroes, I'd rather not have that happen to me.

I faintly smile as I consider the cynic I have become. But how is it possible not to become a cynic with all this going on around you. Dumbledore keeps me in the dark, my friends try to be there for me but are too busy with their budding relationship to be of help, and the rest of the world burdens me with only with what I was prophesized to do; defeat Voldemort. How can a small a scar be the cause of so much trouble, heartache and pain?

But there is also a small light in the dark because for a little while I was loved. Loved by the one person i never expected. He saw me when no one else did, he saw the pain and tried to make it better, but I now know that even his love is not enough. I already feel sorry for the pain I will cause him but part of me rejoices that there will be at least one person who will truly miss me. Me, Harry Potter, not that image the world constructed of me.

My poor Severus, would anybody believe that the great greasy git of Slytherin could fall in love with Gryffindor's Golden boy? Probably not, and it is probably for the best. They would probably accuse Severus of the most horrible things if they knew. But all that matters to me is that he loved me. When we were together nothing else mattered, not school, not Dumbledore, not the outside world and most certainly not Voldemort. Severus held me when I needed to cry, when I needed some simple human contact, he was there. Making love with him was the most magical thing I ever experienced. But for me these kind of things can never last. In my dreams I have seen the Last battle coming and it will end soon. Tomorrow he will attack with all his might. But I will be waiting for him with my beloved Severus by my side and it will be for him that I fight, not for the wizarding world, but for him. For he saw me.

The next day Voldemort attacked Hogwarts and the Final battle started. Harry Potter stood at the centre with the forces of light at his side. There he did what everybody expected him to do; he defeated Voldemort. But lost his own life in the process. After the battle, to all the joy of Voldemort's defeat was far greater than the grief over one lost life. For all except one; for he stood by the dead body of his beloved and mourned. To him the boy-child would never be the Boy-Who-Lived, but always Harry Potter, the man he had wanted to marry.

Chapter Two Severus POV

Dead, I cannot believe that he is dead. The sole reason I had for wanting that bastard dead is gone. Damn you, Voldemort, for taking away everything I had and wanted. My poor Harry, remembered only as the saviour of the wizarding world. How he hated that title and all his other titles. All he ever wanted to be was just Harry, a boy remembered for his life not for his death.

When I first met him, I hated him. I hated him for who he looked like. The spitting image of the boy who made my years in Hogwarts hell, who was ultimately responsible for who I became. I tried hard to keep on hating him and for the first few years I did it very well. But somewhere around his fourth year I began to see Harry, not Potter. In his fifth year, despite The Incident, I truly saw him. I never realized just how aware he was of what some referred to as his duty. I was horrified when I realized he knew exactly what people thought of him.

The first time he casually mentioned his own death, was the moment I realized that what I felt for my most hated student went for beyond what a student-teacher relationship should be. I fought against it and started to push him away. But my doubts were erased when I realized that pushing him away, hurt us both even more.

The first time we kissed was magical; the first time I was inside of him was heaven. But it was not meant to last. Soon, as the attacks of the Death eaters increased, I realized that he never planned on living past the final battle. No matter how hard I pleaded, I knew I did not change his mind. But then again, can I really blame him for not wanting to live on? No, but the thought of having to live on without him causes me a great deal of pain.

I never saw it coming: The greasy bat and the golden boy. Nobody would believe me and they would hate me for making up such lies. But it is not me who makes up lies about a young man who gave up his life to save us all. They portray him as a noble hero but in the end he was a boy who never had the chance to live, to love and to grow old. That I will blame them forever.

Our last night together was magical but far too short. I told him that I loved him and he smiled and told me he already knew. His smile, I loved his smile. I nearly cried when he told me that the next day he would not be fighting for the wizarding world but for me. Now I watch him sleep and wait for the morning to come. To me it feels like the last night of the world, the last night of my world, the last night of my Harry.

The next day Voldemort attacked Hogwarts and the Final battle started. Harry Potter stood at the centre with the forces of light and his beloved at his side. There he did what everybody expected him to do; he defeated Voldemort. But lost his own life in the process. After the battle, to all the joy of Voldemort's defeat was far greater than the grief over one lost life. For all except one; for he stood by the dead body of his beloved and mourned. To him the boy-child would never be the Boy-Who-Lived, but always Harry Potter, the man he had loved.


End file.
